


Playing for the same team

by Slytheroutofmybed (MistyMister_MistyMistress)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Happy, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, POV Harry Potter, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Post-War, Quidditch, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23260693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyMister_MistyMistress/pseuds/Slytheroutofmybed
Summary: You could say the eighth years have been getting along; everyone is kind to each other and have known one another for years, but the mix of Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins feels more like a collection of people than one group the way a house does. It would be nice to have a thing in common besides having survived the war.In which Harry starts up a ragtag quidditch team of eighth years and while rediscovering his love for the sport, he discovers his love for something/someone else.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. No one said this was going to be easy

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. This is my first work and not proofread so it is probably not that good but please be kind.

Harry was sitting with Ron, Neville and Ginny in the Gryffindor common room. They had come at Ginny’s invitation and it felt nice being back here. The professors had worked together to make the eighth year’s common room a home for everyone, and despite the mish mash of different house colours and styles it had turned out pretty nicely, but it couldn’t compete with the place where Harry had grown up. Stepping foot here again felt like coming home. The warmth and memories enveloped the old friends and suddenly that subtle yet ever present feeling of unease seeped out of them. In no time they were chatting and joking with a lightheartedness they hadn’t experienced since the war.

After about an hour, Hermione and Luna walked in, tossed their books aside and plopped down with the rest of them. “How was the library?” Neville asked. Hermione shrugged and Luna told him they got a lot of work done. “We were just talking about how fun it was playing quidditch together” Ginny said, then turned to Harry and Ron, “I miss you guys on the team.” “And I miss being on the team. I miss playing all together.” Harry responded. “Maybe you can ask McGonagall if you could start up an eighth year team? If you miss playing so much, others probably feel the same…” Luna trailed off. “Besides, it will help unite the eighth years.” Harry mulled it over. You could say the eighth years have been getting along; everyone is kind to each other and have known one another for years, but the mix of Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins feels more like a collection of people than one group the way a house does. It would be nice to have a thing in common besides having survived the war. “I think that’s a great idea”, Hermione pipes up, interrupting Harry’s thoughts, “I enjoy your company on the bleachers, but you guys belong on the field. And I’m sure if anyone can coach a ragtag team like that it’s you Harry.”

And so it was Harry found himself sitting in the headmaster’s office asking for permission, and so it was he found himself discussing practise hours and tournaments with madame Hooch, and so it was Harry hung up a sign up sheet, wondering whether he’d get a full team and good players trained for different positions. He felt giddy and daunted and thrilled. He gave it a week, and checked the sheet for new sign ups every day. However, the other eighth years seemed reluctant; by the first day, only Fay Dunbar, who used to be a Gryffindor, had signed up. A couple of days later, two more names had appeared and afterwards one more name was added to the list before the week was up.

“Cheer up, Harry, we’re only one person short for a team and it probably won’t be that hard to find one more.” Harry turned away from the list to face Ron. “We not only need a full team, but we need extras as well. And we don’t even know if these people are any good.” The pair started walking towards the field. “Nobody said this was going to be easy. But if we can’t pull it off at least we’ll have tried.” They rounded a corner and stepped onto the quidditch field, where a couple of students were already chatting, they’re voices excited. “It will be fun.” Ron said, as a last attempt at encouragement. Harry smiled at his friend, then turned to the others and cleared his throat.

“Hi.” He said a bit nervosuly. He didn’t know why he was; he had coached Dumbledore’s army, what’s a quidditch team compared to that? A game he had played for years. A game in which he had had coaching, having had an example of how to coach, not to mention the stakes were a lot higher when training the army. Still, this was new, and it was not going to be easy. “I am very happy you signed up.” Harry scratched his head. He had never been good at giving speeches, then again, they probably didn’t expect one. So he decided to make it short. “I will be training you, and the hours will be a little odd, since we’ll have to work around the other house teams. Trainings are on Tuesdays at nine pm and if we need more we’ll add another training moment. Since we are with seven, I’ll ask your preference, but we need to be flexible. So, Fay,” Harry knew her from the Gryffindor team, “you’ll be a beater?” She nodded in confirmation. Next he asked Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot, the two Ravenclaws he knew from DA. Terry shrugged “We play for fun, you can choose where to place us.” Easy enough, Harry thought, and looked at the last person there. “Susan Bones” she said, “I’ll be a chaser.”

They started with a small game, trying out different positions for Anthony and Terry. Terry wasn’t good with a club so he’d be a chaser, but Anthony didn’t have the speed for either chaser or beater position, so he’d have to be a keeper. With Ron that meant a surplus of keepers, and the lack of a beater and a chaser. Ron could try to fill one of the those positions, but a couple of extras wouldn’t be an unnecessary luxury. Moreover, with Ron in a different position, the team only had two well-trained players: Fay and himself. That’s how he found himself and Ron arguing with Ginny.

“For Merlin’s sake, Harry is _not_ asking Zacharias Smith for the team!” Ron spat. “Have you forgotten what that twat has said about us?” “Ofcourse I remember, Ron.” She sounded pissed. “I don’t like him either, Merlin knows how often I have hexed him. But listen, all I’m saying is that if you want to have a decent shot of winning a match you need at least one good chaser and there’s no denying he’s that.” “Our players aren’t bad” Harry defended. Ginny shot him a sceptical look. “Your players aren’t trained.” “Whatever” Ron muttered, defeated. “Your pool to choose from is small already, there aren’t many eighth years, let alone many trained quidditch players.” She shrugged, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”


	2. Unusual recruits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry stumbles upon Draco. Literally.  
> Also, some romantic nature appreciation (quarantine is killing me but also I've always been like this haven't I).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is still pretty rough and needs editing but I can't be bothered right now so enjoy.

It was a brisk but sunny November day and Harry and his friends were doing homework, or, they were supposed to be.

Ginny sighed demonstratively, making everybody look up. “When am I ever going to use arithmancy?” She exclaimed. Luna smiled at her, and Harry chuckled “Still planning on going professional?” He asked. “Ofcourse, I want my life to be exciting!” Professor Flitwick shot her a look and she whispered “Who doesn’t want to make a living out of their hobby.” “I think you’ll be grand” Luna said. “But you still have to pass your O.W.L.s” Hermione filled in, and returned to her work. But Ginny was committed to procrastinating, so she interrupted “And what will you be doing after Hogwarts? Don’t tell me you have no motivation behind all that work.” “I’ll have you know I study for knowledge itself, not as a means to an end.” She responded. “But to answer your question: I want to end up in the ministry I think…” Ron looked at his girlfriend. “You should run for minister of magic.” Harry thought he saw a glimmer of fervour in her eyes, but it was overshadowed by what could only be insecurity. “I’m serious mione, a person like you is exactly what the wizarding world needs after the war, after Fudge. You are incorruptible, you are righteous, and you have always shown an interest in fighting for everyone, especially the marginalised. Shacklebolt is great, but he can’t sit forever.” Then he slapped Harry on the back “And you’ll have the two greatest aurors to back you up.” Harry grimaced. After the war he was done with violence and fighting. He hadn’t told Ron yet because he knew it was going to hurt his friend’s feelings. They had been dreaming about becoming aurors together since forever, how could he crush that? So he tried to school his features but it didn’t go unnoticed, not to Luna, who had always been in tune with her friends’ feelings. She told him it was okay if he had any doubts, at which point Ron’s face fell. He shot Harry a hurt and exasperated look. “I-“ Harry sighed. He didn’t think anything would make him nervous after defeating Voldemort, but rejecting his best friend like this seemed harder than all the times he had stared death in the face. He sighed. “I’m sorry. But I am just so tired of fighting. Of violence. It’s all I’ve known for the last couple of years.” Harry thought about it, and chuckled. “Even my childhood was a struggle. I just want to…. I don’t know, I don’t know _what_ I want, exactly, but I guess I just want to relax. Live a normal life, be at peace.” Hermione sent him a comforting look. Without words she told him she stood behind his decision, and supported him. Neville had been silently enjoying the conversation, but now he stepped in. “Last year I thought I wanted to be an auror too. I wanted to make the world right. But it’s not my nature.” He said, thought, then added “And I just _really_ love plants.” The group laughed at that, earning another look form Flitwick. Relieved that the mood was lightened, Harry took up his quill again, but Luna butt in “By the way, Harry, how is the quidditch team going? Ginny told me you were going to ask Zacharias to join?”

Harry rolled his eyes. Asking Zacharias Smith to join their team was a pain. He didn’t take Harry’s leadership seriously and too much had transpired between him, Ron and Harry. But, the team really needed him, so after Smith rejected Harry practically begging him to join – which Smith obviously enjoyed way too much – Harry had asked Susan Bones to try to convince him. They weren’t friends exactly, but they had shared a house for seven years, and eventually she managed to persuade him. But if winning him over was hard, training was a fucking struggle. Him and Ron were at each other’s throats constantly, and he dropped deprecatory comments left and right, bringing down morale.

“I don’t think I can take much more. If he keeps acting like he is now I’ll bloody hurt him.” Ron grumbled. “Sure, I hate his guts” Harry said, earning a grunt from Ron in agreement, “but we don’t have to get along. He is really good, and we need him. The thing is though, the team works really hard, and they’re trying their best _and_ improving yet with his remarks he demolishes their confidence and spirit.” “Sounds to me like you need a team bonding activity. To get to know each other a little better, to become one whole instead of just a bunch of people smashed together.” “Brilliant Mione.” Ron cooed. Harry rolled his eyes and shared a look with Ginny. Then, having given up on his homework, he excused himself to take a walk and enjoy the sunshine while he still could.

The walk was nice. Though it was cold, the sun shone on his shoulders and back, and when he reached the lake he saw how it danced on the tiny little waves as the water was pushed by the wind. A couple of birds flew over and he watched how they sailed on the air and he was at peace. He forgot about school, about O.W.L.s, about the struggles with his team. There was only him, nature, and the movement up and down of his chest as he breathed. He had survived the war, he was alive, and he was _alive_. He stood there and just was, until he decided it was time to head back. He neared the castle, and the sun was in his face. He closed his eyes an it felt like a loving caress. And then he tripped up over something. And then it started grumbling, and he found that he had tripped not over some _thing_ but over some _one_.

Harry quickly looked at who it was he stumbled upon, and found Draco lying in the grass. Before he could stop himself, Harry flung a “what are you doing lying on the ground?” and frankly it felt oddly right to. Though he didn’t feel the hostility fourteen-year-old-Harry had cherished for him behind the remark, it brought him back to the days before the war and it was nice when everything had changed, this had not, so he added “Aren’t you worried you are going to stain those pristine robes?”. But he had miscalculated, he had been insensitive, and Draco responded “Save your breath, Potter, I am too tired to keep doing this. And besides, I couldn’t if I wanted to after what you’ve done for my family.” He said it with no malice, so that he sounded worn out – he looked worn out too. His hair was shaggy and his skin pale despite having been exposed to the rare Scottish sun, and his grey eyes which he knew to be bright with vigour now looked bleak and distant. “Draco, I spoke at the trial because it was right. I didn’t do it for me, you don’t owe me anything. It was me but it could just as well have been any other person.” “It couldn’t though, and don’t pretend otherwise. You’re the saviour, you think anyone else’s opinion would have mattered?” He asked incredulously, and mumbled “Even if they had, they wouldn’t.” “That’s not true” Harry said, sympathy evident in his voice. “Sure it is. But you wouldn’t know, would you? Everyone loves you, even more than before the stupid war. You don’t know the glares I get, the remarks. You haven’t experienced a room fall silent the minute you walk in. It doesn’t matter what I do now, I am and will always be a death eater.” “To them at least” followed inaudibly. Harry just stared at him. He didn’t know what to say that. The boy before him was hurt, and vulnerable, and Harry was hit by the realisation that he had not seen Draco here before because the once proud blond now made himself invisible. It didn’t sit right with Harry, he didn’t belong in the shadow, he – “Well don’t just stand there” Draco interrupted “You’re blocking my sun.” Harry cocked an eyebrow at Draco’s newfound lightness. “Malfoys don’t belong in the shadow.” He defended. Harry let out a short bark of laughter. “What?” Draco challenged. “Nothing.” Harry said and stepped away. He had gone a few paces then suddenly turned around. “D’you still play Quidditch?” “What?” Draco exclaimed again, bewildered at the complete change of topic. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I started a team for us eighth year students. We _really_ need some more good players.” Harry explained. Harry couldn’t stand the sight of Draco like this. Ofcourse he was still beautiful, in a tragic way, but Harry’d prefer the lively version he used to know. Playing quidditch again made him feel better, it helped him return to a normal life and see the fun of it. Maybe it would do the same for Draco, and Harry couldn’t deny he was very good on a broom. “Did you just admit to me being good at quidditch?” “Ofcourse we already have a seeker, me, but I bet you’d be really good as a beater. Unless you wouldn’t want to, then I’ll be a beater and you can be our seeker.” Harry rambled on, ignoring Draco, who now sat up and raised his eyebrows. Harry fell silent. “What, It’ll be fun.” Harry shrugged. “Oh, nobody’s waiting for me to butt in…” His lips were smiling but his voice was resigned. Here was that insecure boy again, stripped off all the layers of arrogance and derisiveness. Alien to Harry, stripped bare like this, but he knew it was this that had been the core of all the contempt all along. “Who cares.” Harry stated, and because Draco looked so taken aback he added “I’m serious! Who cares? I’m the captain, and I make the decisions. We need you, and besides, it’s not as if we’re all getting along like a happy family anyways. Please think about it?” “I never thought you’d play for the same team…” Draco teased, shaking his head. But when Harry gave him a pointed look he quickly said “I will. Think about it I mean.” “Good!” Harry turned around and couldn’t help his smile as he walked away, back to the castle. Although he did wonder whether Draco’s teasing words had hinted at something else…

When he got back to the castle, it was already time for dinner, and the sight of his friends quickly did away with any thoughts he had had, and they walked to the great hall together. Ron pulled him slightly to the side, a serious look on his face. “I was really looking forward to becoming aurors together.” Harry felt a pang of guilt. “But… I also get why that’s not really your dream anymore, and you shouldn’t feel guilty.” Upon those words, Harry was able to look his friend in the eyes again, and they were sincere and kind. Harry smiled, thanked him, then poked him in the ribs because they were getting to serious and sentimental. Ron laughed and pushed him back and they were good.


	3. Jane Austen was wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco don't know how to communicate well.  
> Ron and Neville are cuties.  
> Harry is just trying his best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys,  
> I am finally back. So sorry to keep you waiting but with classes starting again and exams and everything I haven't been able to write as much as I'd hoped. Also, I've been struggling with this particular chapter a lot so bear with me. It's a sad one (I'm sorry!), but it's not that bad so it shouldn't be triggering nor too depressing. It felt very filler, but worked better when I made the decision to add the sad overtones and I hope you'll enjoy anyways. Let me know if I need to update the tags bc of this chapter.

When Harry woke up from a restless slumber that Friday morning, the beaming rays of rare November sunshine couldn’t be more at odds with his dreary mood. If this had been a Jane Austen novel he was sure the Scottish country side would have been rolling in fog and gusting winds and painted only in shades of grey. Harry felt something short of, well, shit. Only more passive than that sentiment implied. He slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes feeling sluggish and down and empty and so fucking full. Ghosts of friends filled his head, their smiles and their fight and their bravery and their moods. Their annoying habits and their love for white hot chocolate and their dead bodies lined up shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to

His cheeks were wet but his breathing was even and there was no energy to accompany the tears with sound. This was not a Jane Austen novel. The hills coloured golden seemed to tell him “what? Life goes on.” and the battle was but a slight incident in the history of the hills upon which the school grounds stood, of any significance only to Harry and his fellow wizarding world but nothing to anything else. Just a thing that happened, a thing that passed, a thing that made way for new days of sunshine and birdsong and laughter and insignificant arguments and bad hair days. Austen was wrong. The world simply kept moving and nature didn’t care. Not then, and not now. No, Harry’s mood seemed only reflected in the weather according to one aspect: however persisting it seemed, it would pass.

Harry looked over and saw a blurry Ron still sound asleep and couldn’t bear to wake his friend even though Harry knew he wouldn’t mind. At least one of them got a good night’s sleep. He glanced at the glasses on his bedside table and decided that today was not a glasses day. His sight would be blurred from the tears anyway. He rubbed his eye for good measure before swapping his pyjama bottoms for only slightly dressier sweats and decided not to bother with a different shirt. He padded out of the dorm as quietly as possible so as not to wake anyone, then slipped on his shoes and headed to Hagrid’s hut.

Soon the warm hearth and aromatic tea were competing with images of cold, pale, stiff, swollen and doing a reasonable job at compelling them. Hagrid had promptly plopped a rare breed of puffskein on Harry’s lap upon seeing the rumpled state the younger man was in and lapsed into uninterrupted monologue on the creature currently shedding all over Harry’s sweatpants. He filled his morning drinking tea and listening to Hagrid’s comforting, low rumble more so than focusing on the actual words and he felt the warmth slowly seeping into his exhausted limbs.

After skipping most his classes, Harry reluctantly moved the puffskein off his lap and dragged himself to ancient runes. But not before Hagrid enveloped him in a big hug and Harry decided that if he ever were to have kids, he’d name one of them after him. In class Ron moved his leg so that their knees were touching and Neville drew him a picture of two young mandrakes in a pot, together, connected, intertwined. Harry didn’t register most of the class and later when his friends left to the great hall for food he turned towards the dorms for a nap he knew he wouldn’t be able to take. A moment later he saw Malfoy coming from the other end of the hallway. Upon noticing Harry, he offered a “Potter”, not unkindly, and kept walking. “Malfoy”, slipped out of Harry’s mouth, sounding more like a question than a greeting since he hadn’t used his voice all day. Draco turned back to look at him and nodded, knowing. He made to leave again after some silence but Harry stopped him once more by saying “did you think about it?” Draco nodded, a couple of emotions flickering in his eyes. “Ehr.. yeh, yes I did… I erh.. think I’ll join you.” Harry replied with some nodding of his own and a simple ‘cool’, then nodded some more before slowly turning to leave. “I haven’t played in a while though” Draco added. “Nor have I ever held bat before”. “That’s fine, we can practise, figure it out.” Harry replied. “Okay.” “Okay”, a short nod, then, “I’ll get my gear.” “Wait, now?” Draco asked surprised, giving Harry a subtle once over. Harry shrugged. “I’m fine. Sometimes I wake up in one of these moods, nothing to be done really. Might as well keep going, like the rest of the world.” Draco knew it was true; had felt it himself many of times and seen it on his peers many times more. He was free anyways, and when Harry returned with his and Draco’s broom and a chest they made their way down to the quidditch pitch in silence.

They warmed up with only the snitch first, then Draco tried batting a charmed bludger and they practised together trying to dodge and bat it taking turns. Harry had been right when he said Malfoy would make a good beater; he was fast and agile, and very perceptive. He kept an eye on everything and always knew the bludger’s whereabouts. He was calculating, and he could predict where the bludger would strike next. But Malfoy was also very strong, and his powerful strikes were accompanied by astonishing precision. Harry had known Malfoy was a perfectionist, but wow, his competence as a beater did something to his insides, sweeping him up in the game and pulling his mind out of the deep end. By the end of the practise Draco was smiling and looking smug and Harry didn’t feel half as bad as he did that morning, now only tired in a way that _could_ actually be solved by some resting. Harry fought the bludger back into the chest and mentally crossed ‘beater’ off his list when Malfoy informed him that “I’ll only join if the uniforms aren’t some God-awful colour” and that “not only is orange ugly and obnoxious, it washes him out.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine. Purple then? We haven’t even thought of uniforms anyways.” The other man deemed it worthy, but only specific shades. He waved his hand, “I’ll take care of it.” “And we need a name. ‘the Eighth years’ won’t do.” At that moment a young but elegant owl flew over and perched on Malfoy’s outstretched arm, a letter in its beak. “Thanks Flop Featherkins” Draco murmured, his ears turning pink. “Yeah”, Harry said, “I think _I’ll_ take care of that task.”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I'm salty about the ending of book 8 and the children's names?  
> Also, Harry is very gay for competence, especially in quidditch. But he is also very oblivious.  
> If you liked it leave kudos and I'd love it if you commented!


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